


Of Dining With Dwarves

by Los_Gwilwileth



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, Dwarven dining habits, Gen, I'm so sorry if you're reading this while eating, Insectivorism, Pranks, Slight Humour!fic, Slight trigger warning:Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Los_Gwilwileth/pseuds/Los_Gwilwileth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme:</p><p>Other races mistakenly think elves only eat plants, but this is not the case. While they do only eat animals on rare occasions, they generally eat some "meat" at every meal in the form of insects.</p><p>The Company finds this out halfway through their dinner at Lord Elrond's table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Dining With Dwarves

**Author's Note:**

> Full Prompt:
> 
> Other races mistakenly think elves only eat plants, but this is not the case. While they do only eat animals on rare occasions, they generally eat some "meat" at every meal in the form of insects.
> 
> The Company finds this out halfway through their dinner at Lord Elrond's table.
> 
> Love you if you can include the following:
> 
> \- Bombur faints
> 
> \- Dwalin and Bilbo have to race each other to the bathroom when they find out
> 
> \- Thorin and/or Balin being remarkably chill about it because Thorin is used to it from when he was young and Erebor was on good terms with the Wood Elves, or because Balin just has no fucks to give and those honey crusted ants are actually rather tasty.
> 
> Original prompt link: [Original Prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=26014210#t26014210)
> 
> Elvish:  
> Faeleth - Generous (Female) (The Head Cook of Rivendell in the story.)
> 
> I own nothing! All credit goes to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson. I do, however, own Faeleth and Sorfil, my created OC's.

The fried crickets were rather tasty, he thought, scooping another onto his plate. While the elves might not be good for much, their cooking was exceptional-in some areas, it could rival a hobbit's finest dish.

"These are rather nice. Do try one, Thorin."

Balin passed him a dish full of small fried cakes, and he took one, letting himself indulge in the luxury of piling his plate with food. Supplies in the Blue Mountains come winter were often scarce, and feasts were few and far between. They had lean years, and years when the rivers ran rich with salmon and the forests full of game, but it was never enough for a growing dwarfing. As prince, he had always been allowed more rations than the other dwarves, but it had never felt right to him to let others go without an extra half biscuit so that he could be sated. So he shared out the few extras that he was given, and that had always earned him a smile which made him happier than any extra food could. 

He still remembered the day when he had crept behind the supply wagons after he had heard the sound of a dwarf crying. Behind one of the great carts shelter a dwarfling, even younger that he, his chestnut hair matted with mud and a broken stick clutched in his hand.

"Who are you, little one? What troubles you?" He had asked.

"I am Balin" the young dwarf had replied, "and Sorfil thinks that I am not a good warrior, for he broke my toy axe in two. Perhaps I am not supposed to be a warrior, if I am so bad with weapons."

"Well, Balin, you needn't fear. My name is Thorin, and I am training to use the axe as well. I know that you will become a mighty warrior one day. Why don't you come along to my next lesson, and you can watch me. Do you want a biscuit as well?" He offered, holding out the treat.

The young dwarf nodded eagerly, happily crunching the biscuit, crumbs smearing over his cheeks.

And so a friendship that had lasted for over a hundred years was built on a single biscuit and an offer of companionship.

 

Kili and Fili are joking with Bofur, who laughs at a joke as he points to Nori's plate, of which precisely half has been eaten, a perfect half-moon of white crockery. He chuckles to himself as he thinks of this strange habit, which Nori has had since....well, as long as he has known him. He had asked the dwarf about his peculiar habit of eating one half of his plate at a time, but only received a shake of the head and a sweeping gesture towards Dori and Ori in return.

Bilbo is spreading butter on a piece of bread, presumably making a sandwich if the sliced vegetables and meats on his plate are any indication.

Dwalin's meal seems to be composed of as much meat and as few vegetables as possible, while Balin's is an exercise in unpredictability, with a hodgepodge of items both sweet and savoury fighting for space on the porcelain.

Oin, Gloin and Bifur appear to be holding a conversation entirely in grunts and pointed looks, an impressive feat considering the understanding on the dwarves faces.

Satisfied that everyone has not yet caused irreparable damage to the relationship between the elves and dwarves, he focuses on his own meal.

 

"Erestor, could you please pass the boiled caterpillars and wild rice?"

Elrond has to speak rather loudly to be heard over the clamour of the dwarves, and a sudden silence descends on the table. Bombur turns his head, a small object impaled on his comically half-raised fork.

"Did you say _caterpillars_?!" The rotund dwarf asks.

"Indeed I did, Master Bombur. They are also quite tasty-I do recommend them." The elf's gaze flicks downwards to Bombur's plate. "I do hope that the breaded snails are satisfactory. They are Faeleth's speciality."

Bombur peers closer at the morsel speared in his fork, probably noting the unusual spiral shape of his food for the first time.

His face turns a rather unusual shade of green, and he topples to the floor with a resounding crash.

Several of the elvish musicians rush to help Bombur, but he knows that the dwarf will be fine. The portly warrior has suffered worse blows to his head and survived. _His head is made of cast iron_ , he thinks, _just like his stomach!_

A noise captures his attention and he sees Bilbo and Dwalin shoving their plates away and racing from the table, roughly heading in the direction of the lavatory. Bilbo gives up after several feet and promptly empties his stomach onto the open sandals of the startled she-elf playing the harp. Dwalin also loses the fight against his stomach and regurgitates his meal as well, though with more precision and into a nearby bush.

In the confusion following Bombur's collapse and Bilbo and Dwalin's incident, Kili had somehow located a cooked centipede and dropped it down the back of Fili's tunic. This causes an eruption of Khuzdul swearwords, a frantic attempt by the blond dwarf at slapping the back of his tunic (that looked more like a fool attempting to dance), and a resigned look from Elrond.

"Kili! Stop this nonsense! Remember who you are, and act your age and station. Help your brother get rid of the unwanted item in his clothing, then sit down and behave."

"Yes, Thorin." Kili sighs, muttering an almost inaudible "I never get to have any fun!"

He chooses to ignore that sentence, instead looking at Dwalin and Bilbo, who had returned to the table with matching pasty-white faces. The two of them refuse to look at their plates, instead staring intently at the flustered she-elf trying to wipe her feet with a napkin.

Balin shrugs and offers him a plate of sugar-ant squares, a treat that he has not seen since he was a dwarfling who came with his father to Mirkwood, where the elves offered him plates full of unusual treats, many made from insects. But then the dragon came, and he was left with only the memory of a kind she-elf with hair like flame who stole him pastries from the kitchen and the fading taste of sweetmeats on his tongue. He accepts the sweet gratefully and bites in, nostalgia and and the faint feeling of betrayal swirling through his mind.

Suddenly, Lindir's voice cuts through the uneasy silence that has once again descended on the table.

"My Lord Elrond, should I have told our guests that the butter is made from a purée of larvae?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, leaving a comment or Kudo. 
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
